· 8 June 1939 ·
AT HAWKE CASTLE
Winston Churchill regarded the elegantly carved silver spoon in his hand and fingered the sculpted hawk’s head that formed the handle. Then, he tapped it three times against the thin crystal water goblet. He noted, approvingly, that it produced a lovely tinkling chime, one of his favorite sounds on earth.
“My dear friends and countrymen,” he said, folding his heavy linen napkin, pushing his chair back, and getting to his feet. “If I may beg, borrow, or steal your attention for just a moment.” He waited for everyone to quiet and used the moment to relight the mammoth Havana cigar which was, for him, always the best part of a meal.
Churchill looked up and down the great table at all the cheery faces aglow in the candlelight of the massive chandeliers, which hung the length of Hawke Castle’s dining hall, all blazing merrily overhead. There was an air of festivity, almost a holiday air, in the castle that evening, as if there should be Christmas greenery and gold ribbons hanging from each chandelier. He waited for the four children, seated at the far end of the table, to stop giggling, and for the other lovely small dinner noises of silver and china and crystal to cease. Only when every face was hushed and turned toward him did the great man speak.
“Thank you for indulging an old man’s unfailing compulsion to get on his feet and say a few words after such a splendid repast, and thank you, nephew, for your marvelous hospitality,” he began in the deep, familiar voice, a pungent wreath of cigar smoke forming a thundercloud above his head. “You’re most kind to include me. Tonight, because of the actions of a few people seated at this very table, I was able to place a call to Number Ten Downing Street an hour ago and make the following report to the Prime Minister …”
He paused here, as he always did, knowing he had hooked his audience, and took another sip of Lord Hawke’s delicious Madeira wine, warming to his listeners and his subject.
“Tonight, at precisely nineteen hundred hours, an inspection team of His Majesty’s Naval officers, accompanied by myself, was able to board a captured German submarine in the Hawke Lagoon on Greybeard Island. We immediately determined that the U-boat was of the top-secret Alpha-Class, which has recently been a source of grave concern to His Majesty’s Naval War Office. Confirming the rumors and our own worst fears, our inspection proved that the Nazis, in direct violation of the Versailles Treaty, have indeed perfected a highly sophisticated new submarine propulsion system they call—I’m sorry—what do they call it, Commander Hobbes?”
“I believe they call it Hydroschiffsschraube, sir,” Hobbes replied. “Waterpropeller.”
“A new propulsion system called Waterpropeller,” Churchill continued, “which uses supercooled and superheated water combined with turbine drives to give the new Nazi submarine a top speed nearly twice anything our boys can deliver. This advanced sub, U-33, was first discovered off the coast of Greybeard Island by Nicholas and Kate McIver, accompanied by Mr. Archibald Steele, while sailing a routine surveillance mission in service of their country. Not content to merely observe the enemy vessel, however, young Mr. McIver was able to get a line on her periscope while the vessel was under way, and subsequently measure her approximate submerged running speed! He then—”
“Hear, hear!” Hobbes interrupted. “Bravo!”
Churchill paused and waited for Hobbes’s loud applause to fade.
“Continuing on to Hawke Lagoon, and overcoming the castle’s security systems at grave personal peril, young McIver had the wisdom and foresight to inform Lord Richard Hawke and Commander Hobbes of His Majesty’s Royal Navy of the encounter. Subsequently, Commander Hobbes and Miss McIver, a child of barely seven, were en route to supply me with the specifics of this encounter when they were stopped and detained by this very sub. Boarding the U-boat at German insistence, they were then, through a brilliantly conceived deception, able to convince the U-boat’s commanding officers to enter Hawke Lagoon. There, she now lies captive.”
Once again, Churchill was interrupted by boisterous applause, this time from Admiral Pendleton, the naval attaché, and his boarding party. Hobbes tried to quiet them but the sweetness of the victory and also Lord Hawke’s wine were overpowering. Only a stern glance from Churchill himself could silence the rowdy naval contingent.
“As if the capture and subsequent technical inspection of our enemy’s most advanced submarine were not stunning enough, during the course of tonight’s inspection of U-33, our officers made an even more dramatic discovery—”
There was a sharp intake of breath and a complete hushed silence fell over the table.
“During the inspection, Admiral Pendleton, discerning the smell of smoke in the immediate vicinity of the captain’s cabin, smashed the door’s lock forthwith and entered. The U-boat captain, Wolfgang von Krieg, was attempting to burn, in a state of panic, his ship’s orders and recent radio transmissions from Berlin. Admiral Pendleton, after subduing the captain, was able to save most of this material. Upon further inspection, the documents saved proved to be of the most supreme importance to His Majesty, the War Office, the Prime Minister, and, indeed, all people of our island nation.”
Churchill stopped here and leaned forward over the table, cigar clenched in his teeth, and scanned the faces watching him so intently. He wanted to ensure there would be no mistaking the seriousness of what he was about to say.
“As I informed the Prime Minister, the captured documents found aboard U-33 this evening prove beyond all shadow of a doubt Germany’s intention to launch an invasion of England. They are, even now, at this very hour, preparing to mount an invasion of these Channel Islands—including this small island where tonight we gather beneath Lord Hawke’s roof.”
Instantly, a hubbub erupted up and down the table as the enormity of Churchill’s words took root. The Germans were coming. Coming here! And soon. Churchill blew a huge cloud of smoke up toward the chandelier and resumed his oratory.
“According to these captured documents, these four small islands, under the dominion of the English crown for many centuries, would form the forward base from which Mr. Hitler intends to launch an attack on the English mainland. Here they intend to build submarine bases, runways, and hospitals for German soldiers wounded in the land war in Europe. Here they intend to press English citizens into their terrible service. Here they intend the beginning of the end of our glorious civilized history. Here they would first trample the sweet garden we call England …”
The great man paused and looked once more around the table, and each person present felt those eyes pausing momentarily upon him before moving on to the next seated at table.
“But, and I told the Prime Minister this, there is no fear on Greybeard Island this happy night. I see no fear around this table! Not in the eyes nor the actions of young Nick McIver over there!” Churchill said, pausing to raise his goblet to Nick.
Nick turned to look at his father, and saw that his eyes were shining brightly. Angus bent to his son’s ear and whispered, “War’s a fearsome thing, but we’re going to win this war, Nick, don’t you worry about that!” before returning his rapt attention to Churchill.
Nick stared at his father. Perhaps one day he could tell him how much he already knew about the fearsomeness of war, how horrible it was, the things he’d learned. And even tell him about the power of the golden ball. If the Nazis did come to their island, maybe he and his father could use it to help England again, the way he and Gunner and Lord Hawke had used it against Napoleon’s navy. He’d tell him about it one day. But not tonight. Tonight it felt good to simply let his heart go wherever Churchill’s stirring words would take him.
“Nor fear even in the youthful eyes of Nick’s sister, Kate,” Churchill continued, sitting there at her father’s side. “According to Commander Hobbes, this small child gave the dramatic performance of a lifetime aboard the U-boat, and helped make its capture possible.”
Angus squeezed his daughter’s hand and watched her blush the most delightful shade of pink as Churchill raised his goblet to her and said, “You honor us, Miss McIver, with your presence!” Hobbes leapt to his feet, clapping thunderously, and then Angus, too, and Nicky, and everyone else at the table, all clapping and cheering for the little girl who sat turning bright crimson with a big white cat sleeping in her lap.
When everyone finally sat back down, Churchill continued: “And where is the fear on the face of their father, I ask you? A gallant aviator of the last war who may yet again be called upon to rally another valorous squadron! Where is the terror of Nazi dominion in the face of the stouthearted Gunner Steele? Or of Lord Richard Hawke, a man who has spent his life and fortune in defense of his country? Or England’s greatest secret weapon and one of her most brilliant minds, our dear Commander Hobbes? No, this monstrous Hitler shall find no fear around this table! Of that we may all be certain! Beneath her summer cloak of roses and lilac bushes, you see, this little green island, like our very nation, is built upon solid English rock!”
Winston Churchill then raised his crystal goblet up into the candlelight. One by one, they all raised theirs to him, even little Kate who had by now fallen completely under his magical spell. And even Jip, who’d been sleeping beneath Kate’s chair, now roused himself and barked loudly. Only the cat Horatio, asleep on Kate’s lap, stirred once, peeked above the table, and shut his eyes again, unmoved. Under the table, Kate and Nick took their father’s hands. They saw him smile at each of them, his eyes shining with pride in what they’d done, before they returned their gaze to the indomitable man with the cigar, the man everyone in that room was now sure could lead them all safely through the coming dark night to the broad sunlight of victory.
Nick knew that Churchill’s final words that happy evening beneath the glowing candles of Hawke Castle would remain with them, and sustain them, always. Perhaps one day life on Greybeard Island would again be filled with white sails flying over the blue sea and the sunlit days he had always known. Now, the blackest clouds were gathering around their small island. But they would weather it, they would soldier on, no matter how terrible the storm might be.
Young Nicholas McIver knew all this just as surely as he knew his own name. He could see it all in Winston Churchill’s brightly shining eyes … the promise of victory.
“On this tiny island, and on every English isle,” Churchill said finally, his voice soaring up into the high vaulted corners of the room, “and on every plot of earth called Britain, our enemies will find that England shall never bow down, never, for she beats with one heart. A stout, strong, unstoppable heart that shall never cease, shall always endure, shall never give in!”